


Contrast

by autisticromana (eloralouistra)



Category: Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: BDSM, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1944579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloralouistra/pseuds/autisticromana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coordinator Narvin has complete command over his agency and is known as a forceful and ruthless leader. It's quite another story when he's with his Lady President.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contrast

**Author's Note:**

> All my thanks to Emma, for encouraging me to start writing the thing, Jo for the beta, and everyone else who’s given support along the way.
> 
> Takes place on a happy future Gallifrey where everything is fine, but no spoilers for the series.
> 
> Warning for a mention of torture, but no detail.

Coordinator Narvin makes it a priority to keep the Celestial Intervention Agency the most omniscient organisation in  the universe, and as such, he hears about the insurgents plotting the downfall of President Romana long before their assassination attempt can be successfully organised. Their schemes have so far not been developed enough to cause an emergency, but Narvin's still keen to deal with it himself. That, after all, is the best way to make it plain that trying to hurt his President is a very bad idea.

The CIA keeps a constant discreet eye on the Matrix with, by Narvin's direct command, particular attention paid to anything that could be a danger to Romana. Narvin glowers at the message Agent Theera's brought up on her monitor, detailing the insurgents' intentions.

"You're sure this is all the information available?"

"Yes, Sir," Theera mutters, annoyed. As a recent recruit, she still seems fairly resentful of having to report what she discovers to her superiors, a large change from doing her best to hide the fact that she's hacking into the Matrix from anyone in authority. But if she'd managed that, she wouldn't be here. Narvin orders a further check; he's sure Theera's discovered everything, he doesn't hire incompetents, but it's good to remind her who's in control.

Theera gives an exaggerated sigh as she begins to run her second check, and Narvin smiles slightly as he leaves, already picking out the agents he'll send to hunt down everyone involved in the plot and have them brought straight to him.

 

***

"You're late."

While Narvin had been vaguely hoping to be greeted with a kiss, it's not actually the most unfriendly welcome Romana's given him, which, he supposes, he should be grateful for. Even if he does doubt her icy glare is in any way deserved.

"I was held up dealing with reactionaries who wanted to murder you. As I informed you in my message."

"That is  _ not  _ your job, Coordinator. How many times must I remind you that you are no longer my Chancellor, on this Gallifrey?"

"If I'd wasted time informing the Chancellery Guard and going through a lot of tedious passing over of information, I would have taken even longer."

"Enough excuses, Coordinator. I am  _ not  _ pleased."

"I'd noticed," he mutters.

"So I think you'd better make it up to me," she goes on, ignoring him. "Strip."

_ Oh.  _ That would explain her annoyance then. He wonders, as he slowly removes his clothes and folds them neatly to the side, how much of the anger is real and how much she's just putting on. Glancing towards her, he notices that she's watching with interest, and she appears to be growing frustrated at his slowness. He risks smirking at her once he's finished getting undressed. She rolls her eyes, letting go of the act for a second, before frowning again, harder than before.

"On your knees, hands behind your back," she orders.

He complies quickly this time, not wanting to test her patience too much.

"You may speak only when spoken to, and only reply with 'Yes, Madam President' or 'No, Madam President'. Understood?"

"Yes, Madam President."

Romana smirks as she watches him, taking a few minutes to study him as she leaves him kneeling there. Letting him get far more aroused than he really should be, simply staring up at her and waiting for instructions.

Finally, she moves towards him, lifting up her several layers of skirts. She'd apparently thought to remove her knickers before he arrived. So she'd planned this, then. "I assume you know what to do," she tells him, disdainfully. "And  _ don't  _ move your hands," she adds, as he reaches forward to take hold of her hips.

Narvin sighs, shuffling forward on his knees to get himself into position. She drops her skirts back around him; even with no outer ceremonial robes, there's enough to be too heavy to hold up comfortably for long. Sight is near impossible in the darkness; it takes him a moment of fumbling before he leans in to lick her clitoris. As he does, Romana gives a soft gasp and presses his head closer against her. He licks diligently, with the occasional thrust of his tongue deep into her. His knees are sore and he's struggling to breathe, pressed against her, and it's dark and muffled beneath her skirts, and he wouldn't trade it for anything. He closes his eyes, immersing himself in the taste of her and enjoying her gasps and moans, loud enough to hear even through all the fabric, even when he knows she's trying to hold it in, trying not to let him know how much he's pleasing her. She gives a strangled cry, her legs shaking, as she comes, and he smiles against her.

 

***

 

Narvin has spent years training to appear as intimidating and as merciless as possible, when he has prisoners to deal with. Sometimes it's not an act.

“Tell me,” he says coldly, “Why exactly you thought you could get away with planning an assassination attempt on our President and live. I'm curious.”

The four of them are chained to the walls by their wrists, ankles and necks, the last making it harder for them to look away from him. Their eyes still dart around, as if looking for some way to escape.

“This is a mistake!,” one of them blurts out. “I refused to be part of their conspiracy, I'm  _ loyal _ , really I am, I shouldn't  _ be  _ here!”

“I see. Clearly none of you thought through your actions at all.” He pauses, staring at each of them in turn. “I would advise you to let this be a lesson, but I'm afraid I don't give second chances.” Not where Romana is concerned, at least.

“No,  _ please _ -”

“You are aware that your whining is only going to make me more irritable, aren't you?” he asks, in a voice that might be amiable under other circumstances. They fall silent. “Now, since none of you have anything intelligent to say, I think it's time you had some experience of how the CIA punishes traitors.”

There's a terrified gasp. “Not the  _ mind probe _ !”

“No,” he smiles thinly, “Not the mind probe. Did you really think that was the  _ worst  _ tool the CIA had at their disposal?”  It is, of course, but there's no way for them to know that. He'd use it on them in an instant if Romana hadn't decreed them banned, but he will never act against his President's laws. What he has in mind shouldn't be much less unpleasant though and it isn't as if they'll know exactly how painful the mind probe really is, after all.

The fear on their faces increases, and the whimpers begin to start as he directs his agents to connect them to the device.

Narvin smiles as he watches them scream.

 

***

 

After taking a moment or so to catch her breath, Romana lifts her skirts and moves back to watch him again. "Good boy," she murmurs, rubbing his hair, making him give a small sigh. "I do love seeing you like this, you know. So obedient and vulnerable, all for me." She smiles, and her voice takes on a mocking tone. "I wonder what your operatives would think if they knew what their menacing, ruthless Coordinator Narvin likes to do in his spare time. If they could see you now, naked at your President's feet, staring up at me like that."

"They'd be quite insanely jealous." He knows it's a risk to break the rules like that but he's never been able to obey her without question. However much he loves her, their relationship has always been built around fighting, aggravating each other because they disagree, and then for amusement, and then because it's who they are.

His answering back to her earns him a slap across his face, a punishment that feels too much like a reward. "I don't like being spoken to out of turn. I think I need to teach you some discipline, don't I?"

Narvin swallows. "Yes, Madam President."

"Good. Now, let's have you on your hands and knees, I think."

He gets into position as she moves behind him, looking straight ahead and making sure not to turn his head towards her; he's learnt her feelings on that before and she'll want him to be particularly respectful after his defiance just then.

He hears her move away, and the slide of a drawer opening, as she presumably takes out something to punish him with. She walks back towards him and pauses for a moment, leaving him to wonder what she took from the drawer, what exactly she's going to do. And then something long and thin and  _ hard  _ is striking his backside and he yelps in pain. He takes a breath, steadying himself for the next blow and manages only to let out a pained gasp.

"Oh, don't hold back," Romana tells him in annoyance. She runs a hand over the area she just hit, caressing the skin, pressing down in a way that's both pleasurable and painful. "I do  _ love  _ all those little noises you make. I want to hear them all."

"Yes, Madam President."

He lets himself cry out as she begins to hit him again, wondering what she's using. And how long it will take the bruises to fade this time. After twenty strikes, she stops, moving round to face him again. He's panting heavily, his head hanging, arms and legs straining to keep himself from collapsing. Romana grabs his hair, pulling his head up to look at her.

"Had enough?" Her tone is scornful again but there's concern in her eyes; however imperious she may be, she'd never make him suffer more than he could handle, more than he wanted.

And her care, the care he could never deserve, that he's forever bewildered and delighted she affords him, is what makes him love so much to serve her. "No, Madam President," he tells her, eyes shining.

He sees her fight back a smile then, and she pushes his head back down so he's no longer able to watch her. He barely has time to think that the knowledge that he's pleased her is enough for it not to matter before she resumes her assault. She only gives him ten more strikes, but he's almost sobbing by the time it's over.

"Well done," she tells him, softer this time. "I think that's enough for today." She takes his arms and helps him to his feet. He leans against her, gasping, as she slides her hands over his face, bringing her fingers to rest on his temples. Then her mind is reaching out to his, pausing outside until he pulls her in gladly, and then plunging in, wrapping around his every thought and caressing every erogenous zone his body has. He gives a hoarse cry, falling into her arms, happily letting her consume him.

 

***

 

“Dealt with your little uprising now, Coordinator?”

“Commander Idiel,” he greets his subordinate. “We won't be having any more trouble from them.”

“Ah, good. That would rather get in the way of your plans, wouldn't it?”

“Plans, Commander?”

“Your plans of obtaining power and information for our Agency by getting close to the President, of course. As I'm sure the Coordinator of the CIA would be far too intelligent and ambitious to have any  _ other _ motives for his actions.” She's grinning slightly, daring him to take the bait. “Because if he was foolish enough to become romantically entangled with a person of such influence, his people would be quite justified in disposing of him in favour of someone more suitable. Sir.”

“Quite,” he agrees coldly. “And likewise, _ if _ the Coordinator of the CIA had cause to suspect one of his agents was not completely loyal, then...” Narvin pauses, glancing back towards the cell where the insurgents are held, before turning his gaze back to Idiel. “She might find herself in an awful lot of trouble indeed. Now if you'll excuse me, Commander, I have an appointment with the Madam President.”

 

***

 

Romana's mind strokes his skin, soothing his abused flesh and replacing the pain with almost more pleasure than he can handle. It's intoxicating, but even that hardly compares to the wonder of her feelings for him burning strongly through their joined minds. He knows how much this means to her, being fully understood and able to fully understand, and all of that is there in their minds, along with all the things it's impossible to say, raw feeling not diluted by clumsy words, more love than he'd ever conceived of before meeting her. It's that, as always, that tips him over the edge and he comes, crying out, collapsing against her.

"I take it you enjoyed that?" she smirks, dragging him over to her sofa and settling them both down on it.

"There are far worse ways to spend an evening." What he means is  _ more than anything  _ but she'll know that, she's been in his mind. "Although I must admit, I was expecting to start off with  _ some _ official business."

She grins again. "But Narvin," she says, voice full of mock innocence, "Use of the Rod of Rassilon  _ always  _ signifies official business."

"What?" He frowns, puzzled, before his eyes widen in realisation and his cheeks flush red. "Romana! When - when you caned me...?"

Her laugh is only slightly guilty. "Would the President do such a thing?"

"You are the most disrespectful President this planet has ever had!"

"And yet you still follow my every command."

He leans in to kiss her neck, smiling at her gasp of pleasure, wondering whether she'll allow him to pay her back for that indecency in the slightest tonight. "Always, my lady."

 


End file.
